Title: Working for a Living
Characters: Jack / Giselle / Scarlett
Disclaimer: Disney owns them, I just play with him

Working for a Living

--

Sometimes they'd speak of him, on slow nights. This particular evening seemed longer than most – without a new ship making port, business had been sluggish all week. It seemed the better paying gents were all off on account leaving the town populated by the usual derelict dredges of an already derelict bunch.

Giselle watched the door with a growing sense of despair, no customers meant no pay. No pay meant no bed for the night. Might be able to barter a space in the barn but she was determined not to stoop to that. Her companion – sometimes nemesis, sometimes ally – was pretty much in the same boat. Scarlett had spent her last shilling on a bottle of rum, which she was now magnanimously sharing with Giselle.

An unlikely friendship had sprung up between the two, in between competition for their daily sustenance, they had come to find each other's company fairly enjoyable. A lonely profession, the oldest in the world and also the most alienating. Mistrust was the order of the day, a scrambling existence and an early death the inevitable outcome.

"Think he'll be making port anytime soon?" Giselle sipped her drink, trying to make it last, as the night loomed long before her.

"Don't we all wish," Scarlett sighed her response. The two didn't need to clarify who "he" was, there was only one man they both referred to with such longing.

"Promised me a new frock, next time he were in town." Giselle furrowed her brow and added, "Course, he always promises something, don't he?"

--

She remembered the evening in question as if it were yesterday. The night had been a busy one, with several new ships making berth the town's population had swelled, brimming with eager men needing what she had to offer. So it was with a sense of disappointment she'd had to turn him down when he came searching for her.

"Giselle!" he'd purred, arms outstretched, his usual golden grin and sparkling eyes bewitching her senses.

"Jack Sparrow!" She'd allowed him a sweeping kiss before pushing him away gently.

"You're a delight as always, the finest wench in all Tortuga…" He wrapped her arm in his and began to walk towards the nearest tavern.

She interrupted him with a frown. "It's a busy night, Jack. If you have the coin, I'll listen to the flatterin'. A girl's gotta earn a living."

It was his turn to frown. But then he brightened and said glibly, "Ah, but that has never been a problem between us, has it, luv?" He resumed his resolute path towards the pub, towing her along.

Giselle allowed herself to be led through the crowded streets, after all, what would an hour do, 'cept make the men drunker and more eager for her wares. One drink with Jack, and that's all, she promised herself. Like she'd told him, a girl needed to make a living.

The Faithful Bride was crowded to capacity that evening, men jostling one another, shouting out greetings or curses, depending on who they caught sight of. The whores of Tortuga were out in force as well, circulating among the crowd, allowing the less patient a sampling right there in the darker corners or beneath the scattered tables.

Jack juggled his way through the crowd carrying two tankards of rum, a bottle tucked under his arm. He bobbed and weaved his way across the room to where Giselle sat perched on the edge of a wooden bench in the back recessed area of the tavern. A favorite spot for those gents wanting a quick fix without paying the extra coin for a room. She caught a glimpse of a familiar red skirt shimmied up beneath the neighboring table. From the glazed look on the crusty salt's face sitting sprawled on the bench, she'd say he was getting his money's worth.

Jack followed Giselle's gaze and grinned wickedly. "Watch this!" He put a finger to his lips and slipped silently over to the adjoining table. Glancing around carefully, Jack spread his long fingers wide and wiggled them slightly before gently reaching down, slowing sliding his hand into the groaning man's pocket. A wink and a grin and Jack was sliding into the seat next to her, a leather pouch clinking softly in his hand.

"Ta!" He gave the other table another glance, but no recompense was to follow, the old geezer was face down amidst the clutter of empty plates and cups, snoring loudly. A rustling of skirts announced the arrival of the source of this sudden somnolence, as the redhead scuttled out from under the table, brushing off her skirts and giving the gent an indignant glare.

Hooking her thumb at the slumbering drunkard she explained, " That's why you always have 'em pay upfront."

"Scarlett!" Jack held his hands out wide, grinning like a fool.

Giselle elbowed him sharply in the ribs and said in a peeved voice. "I thought you were wantin' me t' entertain you!"

Jack wrapped one arm around her, mostly to fend off an impending slap and said cheerfully, "Why darling, the night is yet young, and there is plenty of coin in me pockets for the both of you. Double the pleasure, eh?" He reached into his jacket and pulled out the purloined bag, emptying the contents onto the table.

The girls stared in dismay. The clinking had not been coins at all, just an odd assortment of junk – bits of metal and buttons and rocks that rolled out onto the table along with one shiny coin. Jack gingerly picked up the bit of gold between thumb and finger and gave it a good bite. Smiling he held it aloft and said brightly, "Better than nothing!"

Scarlett shook her head and went off in search of her next customer. Giselle finished her drink and started to rise, hesitating as Jack placed his hand gently on her arm. Running one finger lightly down her arm he said thoughtfully, "Not all treasure's silver and gold, luv. I'm sure we can come to some sort of mutual understanding, aye?" He began playing with her fingers, stroking each one slowly and sensually.

Giselle sighed and pulled her hand away. "I'd love to Jack. But picking's have been slim lately and I'm needin' a new frock, this one's falling apart. A girl needs to look her best in my trade."

Jack sat back with a satisfied smirk. "Is that ALL? Darling, I'll find you the finest frock in all the islands, if I have to plunder me way across the Spanish Main. I promise you a half dozen new ones next time we make port." He draped his arm around her soft, white shoulders pulling her close, allowing his expressive fingers to wander slowly down the expanse of pale skin, lingering across her bosom before meandering further south in their exploration.

She sighed again, knowing she'd regret the loss of earnings come morning. So few men ever took the time to even care who it was servicing them, let alone seeing to their needs. What Jack lacked in plunder he made up for with pleasure. She moaned slightly as his inquisitive hand found her hardened nipple, squeezing gently as he nipped at her neck.

"Just this one time, Jack Sparrow," she finally managed to say between his kisses and fondling. "But not here." She rose and brushed down her frayed skirt, wondering if she'd ever see those frocks. At the moment though she wasn't sure it mattered, and smiled as Jack gathered up the odd assortment of items, sweeping them off the table and back into their pouch. With a grin he gently tucked them back into the sleeping gent's pocket, gathered the bottle of rum and held out his arm.

"A pleasurable evening awaits. What say you to that?"

--

Giselle was interrupted from her reverie by the sound of men's voices entering the tavern. Scarlett sat up straight and patted her hair. Swallowing the rest of her drink she stood and smiled brightly as she made her way across the room. Giselle sat for a few minutes longer, savoring her memories before squaring her shoulders and doing the same.

After all, she couldn't spend all her time daydreaming about new frocks. A girl had to earn a living, after all.